Winding Down the Day
Stephanie
November 12, 2001
Part 6
For the next few years, Trowa had not seemed to slow down very much. Though with my visits to earth restricted to three to four times a year, it was difficult to tell. Neither Duo nor Wufei reported any difference either, and Heero could not be reached for comment over the issue. Catherine, now married and the mother of two, lived uptown with her husband and was no longer privy to Trowa's life outside of
the café, much to Trowa's relief. There was no doubt that he loved his sister, but I believe Trowa was ecstatic the day she found someone else to fuss over. And with the children, she had even less time to worry over him. That only left Heero with the honors, and the two of them seemed to have worked out Trowa's morning issues. At the age of thirty-five, Trowa claimed that his life could not be more perfect.
There were minor changes in our lives, the regular type that come with age and further responsibilities, but nothing worth much note. Except for Wufei, who left his job with the Preventors to run for the Chinese seat in the Senate. He won, as all of us knew he would. But even that did not change much for us. We still gathered at the café a few times a year, and when we did, we put aside our work to relax and enjoy each others company. Life carried on, taking us down the road with it at a leisurely pace. The whole world seemed calmer. The fruits of the war we had fought so long ago were finally beginning to blossom. Fewer people gathered behind Trowa's café for food. That was perhaps the best sign.
Wufei and I had arrived together one mid afternoon in July. A server informed us that Trowa was in his office doing the book work and paying bills. We decided to take a seat and have some lunch rather than disturb him. As fate would have it, Monsieur Genet had dropped in for lunch as well, earning a piercing glare from Wufei from across the room.
"Wufei, don't say anything. Trowa asked us not to do that," I reminded him.
Wufei turned back to me and straightened in his chair. He tilted his head in Genet's direction and said, "Heero was right, he's dead weight in the Senate." He smirked and glanced back at the man. "Among other aspects of life."
"Maybe, but someone must like him. People vote for him," I said, though I'm not sure why I decided to defend Genet at all. Perhaps without Duo there to argue, a void needed filled.
"People vote for all sorts of nonsense. That is what lets dictators rise to power," he countered.
"You got elected," I said and then quickly changed the subject back to the matter at hand when he turned his glare on me. "Still, we don't know everything there is about him. Maybe he was abused as a child, or didn't have good nutrition as a baby. It could be a bad chemical imbalance. Anything, really. Lots' of bad things happened during the wars." To this day I like to believe that everyone, even tyrants, deep down are good people. Perhaps if things were a little bit different, they would be something other than what they become.
"A bad childhood is no excuse for a bad adulthood." Wufei remained steadfast in his convictions.
"No. . . . no, it isn't," I agreed. "But Genet's doesn't really hurt anyone. He's just--"
"A waste of valuable space in the Senate that doesn't pay his food bills," Wufei finished for me. He looked backed at Genet, who was in the middle of an argument with a server over something being too cold. "Look at the man! He's at it again! I don't think he's *ever* paid for his food here."
"You're right, he never has," the voice of Catherine sounded behind me and I turned and stood to give her a hug. She was six months pregnant with her third child, and I marveled how she could even leave her air-conditioned house in late spring New Orleans.
"Monsieur Genet lives by a different standard than the rest of us," she shrugged. "But it's only a couple of dollars each time he visits. It doesn't seem worth it to make a fuss. Besides, I think most of the regular customers get a kick out of it now. He's a better side attraction than our ghost."
I pulled out a seat for her and we all sat back down. "See, Wufei? Something is coming of Genet's visits here. People enjoy watching his antics."
"Hn," Wufei snorted and turned back to Genet. "I'm sure the servers love to deal with him."
Catherine laughed and looked over to the server now walking away with a bowl of soup that Genet had sent back. "We give them combat pay if they happen to wait on him."
"How is this pregnancy going, Catherine?" I asked her, trying to get Wufei's mind off of Genet, whom he was still glaring at from the corner of his eye.
"Oh, I suppose it's going as well as can be expected. My feet are starting to swell, but the morning sickness was nonexistent this time around. I still can't believe I signed up to do this again. I said never again after the first one." She laughed a little and shook her head. "How soon we forget."
I smiled and nodded. "Anna told me that after our first child. And I was in complete agreement with her. I never wanted to see her in that much pain again. But then a year later she told me she wanted another. I was surprised at that. I even said no at first. I didn't want to put her through it. But she insisted and now . . . "
"Four kids later . . . " Catherine tsked at me. "Well, this is definitely the last one for me. Two is a handful. I'm not sure what I'm going to do with a third. You have all those sisters to help Anna."
Wufei turned away from Genet and looked at Catherine. "Your husband doesn't want any more?"
"Uh . . . " She looked at Wufei for a moment and back to me, "We've not really discussed it yet, but I think three is plenty, and it gets so much harder as you get older."
"Your only thirty-seven, you still have a few years left," Wufei said, and my mind quickly jumped into gear as I noted Catherine's eyes narrowing on him, in what was most likely going to turn into a diatribe on how her reproductive business was none of his.
"You know, Catherine," I looked into her eyes, breaking her contact with Wufei, "the soup is positively the best I've ever had here. What is it called?"
She looked at me for a moment and arched her eyebrow, "Chicken noodle," she said.
Wufei was also giving me the look now. "You mean you didn't realize that?"
"Well, it tastes different!" I insisted. "It's really good. What all did you put in it?" I had unwittingly committed myself to discussing the soup, and I shocked myself with how inane I sounded even to my own ears. It was all Wufei's fault.
Catherine blinked. "Chicken and noodles," she said slowly. "As you can see, Trowa went crazy this morning and also added carrots and celery."
"Looks like there's parsley in there too," Wufei added.
"It just tastes really good today," I lowered my head and took another spoon of the soup.
"Well," Catherine stood, "I'd love to sit and chat, but I need to get to work. Do me a favor and take this package up to Trowa, it was in the mail for him. I don't think I'm up to managing those steps right now." She handed me a package she had been holding under her arm, which I took.
"Certainly, Catherine," I nodded. It was a small package wrapped in a puffy envelope, which seemed to hold a book inside. Trowa and Heero's walls were covered top to bottom in books. Their library rivaled the public one. They read each and every one of those books too and often asked us if we had read this book or that, making recommendations to us if we hadn't.
We finished eating and I took a reluctant Wufei from his perch watching over Genet to go deliver the package to Trowa.
He was sitting at his desk with his three-year-old niece on his lap. Her auburn hair, which was the exact same shade as Trowa's, was tied up in little pigtails. She was eating a jelly sandwich and getting it all over the papers on his desk. Trowa didn't seem to mind.
"Hello," he said without looking up from his work. He never looked up if he was in the middle of something. Whatever Trowa was doing first always had his undivided attention, everything else was secondary unless it was on fire. "Grab a seat. I'll be a few more minutes."
I nodded and sat on the couch next to his desk, while Wufei chose to walk around the room and look at the book shelves. Bach's cello concerto was playing on the stereo and I nearly fell into a trance as I waited for Trowa to finish. It amazed me how quietly his little niece sat on his lap eating her sandwich. My children would have had all their toys pulled out, playing, squealing, screaming, the works. Duo's kids were like that too, though I guess it was expected they would be. Catherine's daughter was about the quietest child I ever knew. There was no doubt young Anastasia was going to take after her favorite uncle. And Trowa just doted on her. He gave the same amount of time and love to her older brother, but Jonathan seemed to like hanging around Heero and all his computer gadgets more.
But Anastasia was her uncle's little girl. She loved music and had even started to take flute lessons from Trowa by then. She was quite remarkable for a three year old, though it was still advisable for those with sensitive ears to keep a safe distance. Trowa, as always, had amazing patience and Anastasia equaled him in persistence. A few years later, on the day of her first recital, Trowa bought her a new blue dress and a pair of shiny black patten leather shoes. The day she won her first competition, he bought her a beautiful white, silver tipped Himalayan kitten, which she named Calliope after the Greek muse of music (at Trowa's suggestion, no doubt). Today she is retired from the Boston Symphony, but still teaches a few students during the week. If only Trowa could have lived to see her perform . . . But I'm sure, somehow, he knows.
Wufei had decided to pick out a book and read as we waited for Trowa to finish. He sat next to me, and as he flipped through the book his nose wrinkled in disgusted. "I didn't realize you and Heero were . . . into . . . such things." He arched his eyebrow and gave Trowa a coded look, trying to remain non descriptive so that the young girl would not repeat unladylike words to her mother and tell her that Uncle Wufei had said them.
Trowa looked at Wufei and then to the book on his lap. He smiled slightly. "Amazing. Of all the books, you manage to find that one. If I didn't know better, I might think the Senator was investigating my house."
I peered over Wufei's shoulder to look at the book. It was The Story of O*, and I must confess I had no idea what the story was about back then. I had to look it up later, as neither of them elaborated on the book past the innuendo that it was sexual in nature.
"That is. . . your business, Trowa." Wufei smirked and set the book on the end table. "I find it hard to imagine Heero reading that, though I suppose it's not too shocking that you would."
"You seem to know enough about it, Wufei," Trowa said. He took off his glasses and stared at Wufei accusingly. "Was that research for your ethics committees?"
"I don't get involved with such trivial matters," Wufei snorted. "The book is a classic, everyone has at least heard about it."
I remained silent on the matter, too embarrassed that I had never heard of it till then. "I've got a package for you," I changed the subject before I had to publically display my ignorance to them. "Catherine asked me to carry it up for her." I stood and handed him the package. He smiled at me and took it.
"Thank you," he said. He rearranged Anastasia on his lap, as she was beginning to slide off of it, and then grabbed his envelope knife to cut open the package. He pulled out the book and stared at it for a moment, admiring the leather cover and Japanese design on the front. It was obvious that the book was not commercially printed, but rather a hand written journal. He quietly opened it and again stared at the front page for a long moment. Whatever it was, it had changed his entire demeanor. He paled as he read the first page and for a moment seemed as if he had ceased to breathe. Then he began to rapidly flip through the book before setting it down closed on the desk.
"Quatre . . . Wufei . . . " he said quietly, "can you please take Anastasia down to her mother? I. . . might be here a while."
I was surprised, but nodded. "Of course," I said.
"Is everything all right?" Wufei asked before I could.
"Yes," he nodded. "Everything is fine . . . I . . .just need to go through this. I shouldn't be too long."
Trowa had retreated to his cryptic ways, giving us no indication of what was in the book, but it was his business and we did not push. I walked around the desk and took Anastasia by the hand and led her out the door, with Wufei following close behind us.
We waited for a few hours in the courtyard of the café until Heero finally arrived from an errand he had run, which for once did not involve posting bail for Duo.
"Hi." He stood in front of us, already dressed for the night. We were to have dinner at The Commander's Palace, a posh little restaurant in the Garden District that Trowa and Heero both despised, but Wufei and I adored. We took turns choosing where we would dine, and since Duo cancelled on us the last minute to attend the Running of the Bulls in Pamplona, the Lucky Dog venders were thankfully not on the list of possible dinning establishments.
"Heero, you look nice." He did too. There was usually an innate need that welled up from deep within me to shake Heero till all the wrinkles fell out of his clothing, but tonight he looked neat and well groomed.
"Thanks. You're not ready yet." Heero leaned against the brick wall and crossed his arms, as though waiting for an explanation.
"Your better half kicked us out of his office about four hours ago. We're just waiting to hear from one of you, if it's not too inconvenient." Wufei leaned back on his chair and propped his feet up on the adjacent chair.
"Hn. That's odd." Heero turned his gaze to the second story window that lead to Trowa's office.
"Well, he got some package. He kicked us out after opening it," I added. That seemed to make sense to Heero. He nodded.
"I see." He pushed himself from the wall and pulled out the chair that had supported Wufei's feet.
Wufei sat up, slightly annoyed, thought it was not clear if it was because Heero stole his chair when there was a perfectly empty one next to me, or that he chose to sit with us when Trowa was blatantly ignoring his guests.
"Anything new in the Senate?" Heero asked Wufei.
"Genet stole food from you today," Wufei told him
"That's not new," Heero said.
"They introduced a new bill to ban light pollution after midnight in all major cities."
"Think it will pass?"
"No."
And they went on like this, the two of them. It was amazing to witness Heero and Wufei making small talk. It was understandable that they made it with others, especially with Wufei's new public career. Even for Heero, there is just no escaping it no matter how antisocial you are. But to see them make it with each other was wrong on so many levels. It was like pulling up a chair and watching a pitcher of ice cubes melt for entertainment.
My private thoughts are not always so diplomatic.
Unable to stand it any longer, I rose from my seat to dress for dinner when Trowa finally emerged from the café. I was about to address him, but was stopped by the strangeness of his presence.
He had clutched in his hands the book that had arrived in the mail for him. His arms were folded around it and he held it to his chest. He did not look at me at all, nor did he seem to notice that either Wufei or I even there at all. His eyes fixed on Heero and he slowly walked to our table. He bore no expression on his face, but the way he gripped the book suggested he was protecting something of great importance to him - and that Heero was apart of it.
Heero and Wufei both rose, but neither said anything. Wufei backed away from the table, no doubt feeling as in the way as I was. Something very personal was passing between them.
Trowa stopped a foot from Heero, who bowed slightly and smiled at him. Trowa stared at him for a moment and then suddenly reached out to pull Heero into passionate kiss, the book caught between Trowa's arm and Heero's back. Heero's arms then wrapped around Trowa, and the outside world melted from their private existence.
Neither Wufei nor I quite knew what to do. Trowa and Heero did not make many public displays of affection. This was new territory for all of us. Wufei pulled me from the scene, as I could not seem to walk away on my own volition, transfixed at what was transpiring before us in the way pure raw emotions tend to stun us when face to face with them.
Maybe it is because I am an empath that I was so paralyzed. I had never felt such an intensity before, and it was coming from Trowa and Heero, directed toward each other.
Wufei and I ate alone that night.
* The Story of O, by Pauline Réage
